


Seventh Year

by thisaestus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:43:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisaestus/pseuds/thisaestus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from those left behind seventh year</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seventh Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for charma_10 for the 2009 hp_summersmut fest.

It was a struggle that year, just making it to King's Cross Station and onto the platform, where Lavender was shocked by how small the crowd milling about was. She'd barely managed to convince her own parents, finally prevailing when she begged her mother to consider the social leg up she might receive if many young witches didn't show up. She hadn't been that surprised when she peeled the letter from the leg of the Patil's owl saying Padma and her sister wouldn't be at Hogwarts that year, although she had run bawling to her bedroom anyway. Parvati hadn't even written in the special lilac ink she always used to write to Lavender, probably too upset. It'd been hot and sticky that day, the tears on her face barely registering. She'd known better than to hope, but she deflated just a bit anyway when Parvati didn't come rushing up to her on the platform. Padma, more reserved, wasn't there, and Mr. Patil wasn't there either, standing silent and protective over his daughters the way he usually did. It wasn't exactly a good idea to be out in the open much anymore, she reflected. Probably most of the parents had already bundled their children onto the train, and left.

The train whistled harshly, and she jumped, stubbing her toe on her trunk. She dragged it as quickly as she could, grateful for the feather light charm her father'd put on it before she left, and climbed aboard the train. As people darted around her, looking for their own friends, Lavender felt completely lost. This would be her first year without Parvati and Padma. She could sit with Mandy Brocklehurst, but they'd never actually been friends, just sat in the same compartment with their best friends so Padma and Parvati could be together before Hogwarts split them apart again.

She stood miserably with her trunk wondering what to do. She'd never been alone like this before, and she felt conspicuous without her friend by her side. The train was picking up speed and the hallways were emptying. She thought about looking for Mandy after all, but considered that she'd probably be with the other Ravenclaws. And how embarrassing would that be, practically a sign that she had no friends, when even the Ravenclaws could drag themselves out of their books long enough to find people to sit with. She was considering lugging her trunk into a bathroom and waiting out the ride there when she saw a familiar face, muttering as his trunk bumped into the walls.

Normally Neville was more someone she would snicker at with Parvati when he exploded a cauldron or tripped over his own shoes or something, but she was desperate. “Neville! Wait up,” she called, grateful that her lightened trunk allowed her to reach him quickly.

He whirled around and couldn't keep a look of surprise from his face when he saw her. “Oh, um, hi,” he said, face suffusing a dull pink.

She smiled brightly at him. “Hi there! Lucky I ran into you. I was just wondering where the Gryffindors were sitting this year.”

“Oh we've got a compartment just here...” he trailed off, gesturing.

Lavender tried and failed to prevent gnawing in her stomach that even Neville was part of a “we”, that he was part of a group with their own compartment, a compartment full of friends who were waiting for him. A compartment that might not want her to sit with them.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and made to open the door. She paused, as though only just realizing and said, “Oh, you don't mind if I sit with you, do you?”

“N-no,” he stammered, as she'd counted on, and she pulled the door open.

“Oh!” she said in surprise. She was expecting Harry and Ron and Hermione, and was surprised to see Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood instead.

Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly and Lovegood smiled dreamily at her and said, “Welcome, Lavender. It's good to see you weren't abducted by the Inferi like so many others this year.” She looked placidly down, still smiling, and Lavender barely suppressed a shudder.

Neville managed to scoot around her, bumping her ankle without realizing it on the corner of his trunk.

Lavender hesitated in the doorway, counting the seats. There weren't going to be enough.

“Well?” Ginny demanded. “Are you going to sit down or are you just going to stand in the doorway staring at us?”

“It's just that--” Lavender began.

Ginny looked at her impatiently.

“Well, there won't be any room when Harry gets here and Ron and Hermione come from the Prefects' carriage.”

Ginny was practically glaring and Neville looked nervous and that damned Lovegood was singing softly to what appeared to be a turnip.

“They're not coming,” Ginny spat out.

“Oh,” Lavender whispered. Harry and Ginny must have broken up over the summer or something. It must have been bad if she was still so angry and they were all sitting in separate compartments. Obviously Hermione would be on Harry's side, but Ron-- that was strange. It must be tough, choosing between his sister and his friend. She stowed her trunk overhead and settled into a seat. This might not be a bad thing. Hopefully Ginny would start talking and she'd have all the gossip and maybe the Hufflepuff girls would be okay to hang out with, if she could impress them with some juicy tidbits.

A few moments passed. Ginny stared stonily at the window, Lovegood had some kind of goggles on, and Neville was leafing through a book on venomous Egyptian cacti, rapt.

Lavender couldn't contain herself any longer. “So why aren't they coming?” she asked. “Do they have to stay in the Prefects' the whole time?”

Ginny turned to her and crossed her arms. “They're not coming because they're not coming. Ron has spattergroit so obviously he can't be here.”

Lavender couldn't help it. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, recoiling. “Isn't that contagious?”

Ginny looked for a moment as though she might cast one of her famous Bat Bogey hexes but restrained herself with a curt “No.”

Lavender breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing against the cushion. Then she realized Ginny hadn't fully answered her question. “But what about Harry and Hermione?” she persisted. She gasped as the pieces fell into place. Surely that couldn't be the reason he and Ginny had broken up. Everyone knew Hermione'd been gagging for Ron since 4th year.

She looked up from her revalation to see Ginny exchanging a look with Neville. Even Lovegood seemed unusually alert from behind her goggles.

Ginny sighed. “Harry's gone missing, and Hermione too.”

As the news raced in whispers down the hallways that Harry Potter wasn't on the train, Lavender stared silently out the window. She had no one to left to gossip with.

\------------------------------------------

Even after a few weeks, the stillness of the dorm at night was unnerving. She usually stayed in the common room as long as she could, and then trudged up the stairs to her empty room. She'd fall into bed, hoping sleep would find her quickly. She was so lonely she would even have been relieved to have Hermione there at night, even if Hermione hung around the boys and ignored her all day long.

She and Parvati had always wished Hermione'd been sorted Ravenclaw instead, so they could have the dorm to themselves. Hermione was always going to bed at an unreasonably early hour, huffing and sighing if they talked practically even in a whisper, or else she was studying and doing homework into the wee hours, the nib of her quill making annoying scratchy sounds on the parchment as they tried to sleep.

She tried not to think about Hermione too much. Especially at night, when her mind wandered too much. Everyone knew she was Muggleborn, and she was one of Harry's best friends. She looked across the room at the photo of the Puddlemere United team she'd pinned to the wall. Her Xavier Frilloby poster was there too, from the Ottowa Otters. She and Parvati had giggled over the Men of Quidditch calendar, declaring which players they'd marry. They had both claimed him in the same breath, and collapsed into laughter. Xavier (“X to my biggest fans” he'd said with a wink) sighed. He seemed tired too. She stared up at the canopy of her bed, at the string of stars Parvati had enchanted for her glowing softly there, and closed her eyes, hoping Hermione was safe, wherever she was.

\------------------------------------------

Lavender took a slice of roast beef and a single boiled potato. She wasn't hungry much these days and the sooner she ate the sooner she could leave the Great Hall and return to the dorm, which was much safer than wandering the corridors. She looked at the Hufflepuff table, where everyone was seated in a tight knot together.

Sometimes she thought it might've been better to be a Hufflepuff. Everyone knew the headmaster despised Hufflepuffs, but they kept their heads down and worked hard and stuck together and there was hardly anything anyone could say about that, could they? Ravenclaw might have been better, if she'd had the head or the temperament to be friends with books instead of people. They had the comfort of each other if they wanted it, but their books seemed to comfort them more, and that was hardly surprising, since books never deserted you or left you to fall asleep alone each night. She watched the Ravenclaws sometimes at their table at mealtimes. You couldn't ever tell what they were thinking behind those impassive faces, and that was probably a good thing these days too.

The Slytherins were the fortunate ones under the new regime. They were the only ones who dared to be loud or laugh or fool around in the Great Hall anymore, their faces permanently gleeful as though they daren't believe their good luck. Pansy Parkinson caught her staring and whispered quickly to Greengrass and Nott, who whipped around to look at her. Lavender dropped her eyes quickly to her Divination book, which she carried everywhere these days, and pretended to read. She was stuck on a page about the properties of different herbs as aids in trance-like states, and glanced down the table at Neville. He was horrible at practically every subject, a fact that was making him a near daily target in some classes, but he was better than everyone – even Hermione– at Herbology. He probably knew all this stuff.

He was whispering fiercely with Ginny Weasley – were the two of them an item? She remembered he'd asked her to the Yule Ball their 4th year and how they'd danced the entire night. She noticed how neither of them noticed that they were being watched keenly from the Head table, and put her head quickly back down. Being Gryffindor was hard enough lately, without attracting any extra attention.

\------------------------------------------

Late that night, as she stared into the fire of the common room, which was as empty as the dorm room she was avoiding, the portrait door quietly opened. She started, heart racing and panicky, wishing the Fat Lady had opened with a bit more warning, as she usually did these days. She hoped against hope it was Professor McGonagall, and not Professor Carrow, who'd recently taken it upon herself to conduct random house inspections at whim. The people who received detentions from those inspections tended to return quiet and jumpy from them.

She let out a shaky breath as Ginny and Neville climbed through, talking in hushed tones.

“– has to be,” he was saying. “There's no one else left.”

Ginny paused and opened her mouth to reply, then caught sight of Lavender watching them. “What are you even doing here?” she hissed, turning and stalking off to her dorm.

Neville turned to see, and sighed when he looked at her. He gave her a weak, apologetic smile and turned to head to the boys' dorm.

“Neville, wait!” she blurted out.

He turned slowly around and she rose, walking over to him. She looked intently at his face, which seemed thinner. His eyes were shadowed, tired. She couldn't ever remember being this close to Neville. She was startled to realize his face seemed almost like a man's, instead of a chubby-cheeked kid. Obviously Ginny had seen it too, if the two of them were--

“Just-- just be careful.” She lowered her voice. “The professors are watching you. I saw them today.”

Neville looked surprised for a moment, then thanked her.

He seemed like he was going to leave, and she couldn't help it. Even if there was no one to discuss it with she had to find out. “Neville, are you and-- are you two a couple?”

She thought he'd duck his head and blush, and was already imagining the letter she'd write to Parvati, but instead he looked horrified.

“No!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Ginny's Harry's girl.”

But if she was still Harry's girl, then where was Harry? Did that mean she was still in contact with him? Lavender's mouth grew dry with the implications, and that she was talking to someone who was a friend to Harry's girlfriend, which meant he might be a target himself which meant she might be next.

“But--”she started.

He looked at her for a moment. “Even if she doesn't know where he is, when he comes back, she'll still be his girl.”

Head spinning, Lavender thought she understood.

\------------------------------------------

She was sure it would surprise everyone that she had an encyclopedic knowledge of the family trees of most of her classmates, and many of those in other years from important families besides. She had been taught since practically birth about the importance of meeting a wizard from a good family and catching him early, while she was still in school. Having friends from good families would help too, as they were respectable and could help introduce you to potential mates. She thought of Neville, whose family tree was impeccable, but whom her mother had never mentioned. When they'd been sorted into the same house, she said so to her mother, who'd given a light shudder and told her to forget about that boy. Something about how his grandmother would always be hovering and it was best to keep a distance after that trouble with his parents. She'd squawked and said “Ew! Not like that, Mother!” in indignation that anyone could imagine she had a crush on a boy as clumsy and dull and unattractive as Neville Longbottom.

Her mother had thought about sending her to Beauxbatons but told her frankly she wasn't clever or graceful enough to compete with the French witches for their wizards. When the Beauxbatons delegation had arrived for the Triwizard Tournament her fourth year she'd taken one look at the girls and silently thanked her mother. Instead she'd been sent off to Hogwarts under strict instructions to get to try to get to know the Smith boy in her year, to befriend the Patil sisters and especially Bones, whose family was important in the Ministry. The Greengrass girl had gone Slytherin before she'd had a chance to speak to her, and her mother had told her she'd be a suitable friend only if she went Ravenclaw, so that was that. She'd tried only once to talk to Draco Malfoy, whom her mother had pointed out excitedly on the platform. She thought she'd approach him early, but at his sneer she fled to the back of the line and soon enough McGonagall had arrived and they were being sorted and sometimes now when she looked at him she hoped deep down he didn't remember her overture.

In the end she had really only managed to make friends with Parvati, and by extension Padma. Her mother hovered excitedly the entire week Parvati would come each summer, and during the other times Lavender would mention the names she knew would please her mother. She parceled out the gossip she'd collected during the year, reweaving the stories so it seemed she'd been a part of them, instead of overhearing them from Parvati from Padma or in the girl's lav between classes, and somehow it was enough to last the entire summer. This year there had been no visit from Parvati, and she ran out of stories by August.

She was beginning to wish she had listened to her mother's arguments for not going back this year. There was no social advancement to be had, no getting to know boys from different houses better with some of their prettier or cleverer housemates absent. Fraternizing with students from other houses was suspicious to this regime, like it had been to Umbridge in her day. There was only keeping your head down and trying not to get noticed.

She sighed and rolled over, trying not to wonder what Neville and Ginny were up to, and hoping they wouldn't be hurt.

\------------------------------------------

She sent an owl to Parvati. She didn't know what to write anymore, everything seemed too complicated or dangerous to explain. She just told her she missed her, and hoped she was doing well. She wrote in Parvati's favorite magenta ink.

Three days later the owl returned, unopened letter still attached to its leg.

\------------------------------------------

Ginny, Lovegood and Neville tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor and got caught. No one could believe it when Snape gave them detention in the Forbidden Forest instead.

\------------------------------------------

Lavender gave the wrong answer in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Carrow's eyes lit up, then grew even brighter when Neville volunteered to take her detention that evening instead.

Lavender was waiting for him in the common room, stomach churning with guilt and fear and dread when he stumbled through the portrait hole.

“Oh, Neville,” she gasped.

She rushed over to him, careful of the way he winced as she tucked herself under his shoulder for him to lean on. She led him up the stairs to his room, grateful the Founders had trusted girls a bit more than the boys. He opened the door, and she was surprised that the room was entirely dark. She wondered where Seamus was, hoped he was off with a girl from another house instead of in detention, which was much more likely. She gazed around at the empty beds waiting for Ron, who was ill with spattergroit, for Dean who was Muggleborn and had never shown up for registration and was therefore an Illegal now, for Seamus, whose overprotective mother wasn't speaking with him after his return, and for Harry, who was being hunted as Public Enemy #1. She felt sorry for all of them, and ashamed that she'd never once thought of how lonely the dormitory must be for Neville.

Neville sat heavily on his bed, and refused to tell her what had happened. She hovered beside him, fluttering her hands anxiously, until he groaned at her to please sit down or leave him in peace. She sat gingerly beside him, then burst into tears.

He looked panicked, then patted her hand haltingly. She laced her fingers tightly through his, and he looked startled. She couldn't bring herself to care that she was making a scene, only that she had ridiculed and made fun of Neville so many times with Parvati, and snickered at him in lessons and the common room when he did something clumsy or stupid, and now he was taking her place in detention without being asked, suffering who knew what and only for the goodness of his own soul. She was wracked with guilt.

“Neville, I'm so- I'm so sorry,” she hiccuped.

She unlaced her fingers from his and threw her arms around his neck. He sat stiffly as she sobbed into his shoulder, then awkwardly patted her hair. Soon enough she stopped crying and began laughing wetly and he seemed so bewildered.

“I'm just so scared,” she whispered, and he put his arm around her and they sat like that for what seemed like ages, until she began to get a crick in her neck and he said his arm was falling asleep.

“I guess I'd better go, then,” she said. She made to stand, then looked at him. His face was inscrutable. “Only, only do you mind if I stay here with you? It's just so lonely by myself all the time. I feel so alone all the time.”

He unlaced his shoes and toed them off. “Of course,” he said.

He slept above the blanket and she lay beneath. She woke at dawn and slipped out from the circle of his arm. She stared down at him for a long moment. It was the first time she'd ever slept with another person. Even Parvati had always stayed in the extra bed.

She looked across to Seamus' bed, which was still made and didn't look slept in. If he'd come in that night and seen them, he never said a word.

\------------------------------------------

Luna Lovegood had always been a nutter, but no one could believe it when she disappeared from school at Christmastime. The Quibbler had always been such a joke, really. Ginny wouldn't talk for four days, after.

\------------------------------------------

She'd been sorted Gryffindor, but never felt particularly brave or even understood why she was in that house, except she wasn't clever enough for Ravenclaw, ambitious enough for Slytherin, or hard working enough for Hufflepuff. It made her feel sick to listen to the Carrows in Muggle Studies, and her gut clenched for hours before and after Dark Arts lessons. But she kept her head down, afraid to attract notice, and certainly not willing to speak against them.

Then one day Neville whispered to her in a corridor, asked if she still had the fake Galleon from their days in Dumbledore's Army fifth year. He and Ginny were reviving Dumbledore's Army and needed her help. She could never say whether it was fear or relief that washed over her in that moment, but she gave a resounding “Yes!” that was loud enough to make Neville start and dart glances over his shoulders for Filch or any Slytherins. Suddenly the steel was in her gut.

She never dared meet Professor Snape's eyes, but Muggle Studies and Dark Arts classes were much easier to sit through thinking about the special Weasley Wheezes paint that Filch still couldn't get off the walls proclaiming Dumbledore's Army was still alive and recruiting.

\------------------------------------------

Then things got really bad. The worse the Carrows were the stronger Neville's spine seemed to become. He came in at all hours, sometimes bruised and bloody, and sometimes jubilant with some act of resistance he'd performed. Seamus was usually worse off, as he had one Muggle parent and a penchant for pranks which made him much more suspicious. Lavender was never with them when it happened, but she began studying what books she could sneak from the library on simple home mediwizardry and healing spells and tried to patch them up as best she could, and the others, too. She took to sleeping in Neville's bed on these nights. Sometimes they were both so exhausted they forgot their unspoken agreement about the covers and woke up in each other's arms.

\------------------------------------------

Ginny Weasley went home for Easter break and never returned.

\------------------------------------------

Then the Room of Requirement showed itself to Neville again. There were three beds at first, one for Neville and one for Seamus and one for they didn't know who. There was a cabinet that seemed to hold whatever medical remedy they could think of, and a lot of mediwizardry books Lavender knew weren't in the Hogwarts library. It was a lot like the Gryffindor common room, really, only cozier and you didn't realize how lonely you were because there wasn't so much empty space. Neville began growing special plants, no one knew what for. The room seemed to speed up their growth, encourage them. That was only for a few days.

Not too long after, Neville took her there, with a grim expression. The room had changed. There were hammocks now, lots of them, and all the house colors were there. She didn't understand at first, until he told her it was because so many people were in danger.

The room gave them a Wireless and they listened to Potterwatch, as many of them in the room at the same time as they dared. The first time Seamus heard Dean's voice he cried and cried in relief, just cried, and then he spun her around in dizzying circles and they laughed until they collapsed.

\------------------------------------------

They heard a crazy tale about Harry and Ron and Hermione escaping Gringott's on a dragon. No one could believe it, but it was Harry and he'd done so many unbelievable things and no one had found him yet, so maybe, just maybe. . .

The students with detentions that week couldn't go to class for days after.

\------------------------------------------

She never knew quite how it happened but they were the only two people holding the Room of Requirement. Neville was sitting on a spare cot, bruised and bloody and Lavender was angry.

“Neville, you've got to stop provoking them! Look at you! What if- what if--”

Wincing, Neville grabbed her fists gingerly and she realized she'd been beating them against his chest.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry.” She was horrified, and looked down in shame.

He tipped up her chin. “Hey.”

She looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

He held her chin in one hand and stroked her hair with the other. “I have to do this, Lavender. It gives the others the courage to resist, too.”

She was staring up at him, and he was still looking at her, stroking her hair, and suddenly they were like magnets. She was kissing him furiously, angrily, and he was kissing her back, trying to keep up. She wondered vaguely she was his first kiss, prayed she wasn't going to be his last.

He wrenched back from her, flushed pink and embarrassed. “I am so sorry!” he blurted out. “I didn't mean--”

She leaned forward and kissed him again. She was too afraid to do much in the active resistance, freeing people from detentions, speaking out in class, but she knew she could do this. Neville was their leader, and he had been so good to her, and so kind, and if she could help him, she'd be helping everyone.

His hands were wrapped in her hair, and she unbuttoned her blouse. She took one of his hands and placed it on her breast, squeezing his hand against hers. He groaned and tore his mouth away.

“Lavender, what are you--”

“Shh,” she whispered, taking the moment to shrug out of her shirt.

His eyes were on her face, and she took both his hands and covered them over the soft cotton cups of her bra. He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut as she squeezed his hands against her.

“Look at me, Neville,” she said softly. His eyes flew open and he dropped his hands guiltily and she smiled a little. She unhooked her bra and his mouth fell open. She'd always been proud of her breasts, perfect, round and heavy, with pale pink nipples. She'd heard the boys talking about them more than once when they thought she couldn't hear. Ron had certainly lost no time, pawing at them every chance he got.

“Suck them,” she whispered. “Touch them. Make them feel good.”

Neville fell to her breast at once, his tongue snaking out and darting around her nipple in a way that shocked her weak kneed, even as his hand was tentatively and shyly touching her other breast in a way that was much more what she expected. She reached down to his trousers, felt a surprisingly large hardness, and stroked. He bucked up wildly, mouth detaching from her nipple with a pop and his eyes flew to hers.

“Wha-” he asked, mouth dry.

She smiled wickedly at him. “I want to make you feel good, Neville.”

She pulled down his zip and freed his cock from his trousers. He was already impossibly hard, leaking at the tip. He was panting loudly, and seemed mortified. She trailed her fingertip down his shaft and he whimpered. She wrapped her hand around him and began to stroke him up and down. He was babbling incoherently beneath her, and she added a twisty thing at the head that she had learned with Ron. He lasted only a few strokes more, and soon he was spurting over the top of her hand. He came with a loud groan, squeezing his eyes shut like he was in pain.

“Oh, God, “he whispered softly, chest rising and falling rapidly, arm flung over his eyes.

“It's okay, Neville, shh, it's okay.” She kissed him all over his face, soft kisses, and suddenly he was kissing her furiously back.

“I've never- I'm sorry- I -”

“Neville, don't be sorry. I liked it,” she said, confused.

“I want you to feel good too,” he told her, face pink with embarrassment and exertion. She blushed too.

“Please, Lavender,” he pleaded. “It's not fair to you.”

After a silent moment, she lay back on the cot and lifted her skirt up. She reached out for his hand, and pressed his fingers over her white cotton panties where a damp spot was forming. She slid his fingers under the waistband of her panties, and over the hard nub of her clit. His eyes were watching their fingers intently, his breathing loud in the quiet room.

“See,” she whispered, “Touch me here, like this, and I get wet here--” she pushed his fingers lower, and when they met the wetness of her they both groaned.

“Oh my God,” he groaned.

She pulled her hand out. “Now you do it,” she told him in a shaky voice.

He touched her tentatively, rubbing small circles over her clit, dipping his fingers lower and dragging the wet back up to smear it over her. The angle was awkward and he couldn't move much. She told him to wait, pulled his hand out. He looked stricken, but resigned to be a gentleman. His eyes widened and she didn't miss the spark of relief as she pulled her panties down and slipped them off her legs.

“There,” she whispered. “That should be easier.”

She was embarrassed as he looked his fill at her, watched his fingers touching her, but soon his reverent expression made her squirm and pant. His fingers seemed more and more drawn to her center, to the wetness that was pooling there, and at another of his teasing touches, she hissed at him, “Put it in!”

He looked startled, then like a cat who had got the cream. He paused uncertainly, then entered her slowly. She groaned at the intrusion, and he looked alarmed. She felt him pause, begin to withdraw. “Should I?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “Keep doing it!” He looked unconvinced but continued to push in. When she felt his knuckles against her, she groaned and rocked against him. He built up a shallow rhythm, and she reached down to rub herself. He studied her for a moment, then reached down and brushed her hand away. He slid a second finger inside her, and to distract her from the uncomfortable stretch, he began to rub his thumb against her clit. Emboldened by her moans, Neville began to build a more forceful rhythm. The combination of his thumb against her clit and the deeper penetration was causing warm curls of fire to spiral through her belly. Her thighs began to tremble, and he began to finger fuck her in earnest. The look of determination on his face was her undoing, and she keened as she began to contract against his fingers. When the spasms stopped, he pulled his fingers out carefully and smiled at her.

She smiled shyly at him, and then they were both startled by a pounding on the door. Neville hurriedly zipped himself up and Lavender raced to get dressed and they opened. Michael Corner and Terry Boot were on the other side.

“The Room wouldn't let us in,” Terry said, breathelessly, and he and Michael looked over their shoulders.

They got out of the way in a hurry and Terry and Michael darted in. The population of the room slowly swelled, as it did every night.

\------------------------------------------

Lavender blushed scarlet every time Neville thought no one was looking. He'd remove his hand from his pockets and sniff his fingers delicately. A big smile would grow on his face and he'd stuff his hand back in his pocket. Someone would look over and see his smile and feel encouraged, no matter their bruises or scars. They'd smile themselves, thinking that if Neville could manage to stay positive and courageous, then maybe things might be okay, by some miracle.


End file.
